


been dreaming about you a lot

by Love_Me_Dead



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dreams, Fluff, Frustration, M/M, Pining, Sleep, Tea, how do i tag this wow, i make fun of harry a lot, idk how to tag happy, like wow so light, nothing onscreen just mentioned a few times, side larry btw, this is like a happy thing, very light mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:41:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Me_Dead/pseuds/Love_Me_Dead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn can't sleep. As it turns out, neither can Niall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	been dreaming about you a lot

**Author's Note:**

> endless, endless thanks to my beta Tiana for making this all possible and improving this by a hundredfold. enjoy~

It’s all dark and quiet, the only noises those of traffic in the distance and the hum of an air conditioner in the corner. The alarm clock on the side table is glaring and he kind of wants to rip out the cord so that the room is completely, totally black. He’s warm under the blankets and he definitely feels drowsy but it’s fatigue without conviction; there’s nothing to it except a bodily exhaustion.

While he is, physically, _weeping_ for rest, his mind is buzzing and humming in time with the air conditioner and the traffic.

In short, he can’t sleep.

Zayn wants to climb out of bed and find his cigarettes, breathe the smoke into his lungs and just _relax_ but the rules from the hotel specifically state (through some very conspicuous plaques and pointed stares from the staff – as though he didn’t get enough of those from Liam) that there’s no smoking permitted without additional charges.

It wouldn’t really matter if he was fined, he’s got millions of pounds at his disposal, but the hotel is nice and he doesn’t want someone killing themselves (or quite possibly him) over clearing out the stench of one solitary cigarette. He’d go out to the balcony but it’s far too warm and the chances are too high that he’ll be seen and photographed in nothing but his boxers, looking completely worn out and drained. He just wants to waste his time until his mind catches up with his body.

The thing is, though, that Zayn has been having the most bizarre dreams lately. They aren’t nightmares and they don’t make him afraid of falling asleep, but they’re odd and he can’t wrap his head around them.

Each night, he dreams about Niall. Each night, it’s the same thing. He gets Niall to laugh and then they’re just sitting there together, closer than they ever did during the day, too close to each other for it to be particularly comfortable but strangely, he’s okay with their proximity. In fact, their nearness is making him giddy and it’s gone and caused butterflies to erupt in his stomach. And then Niall leans in and the butterflies multiply until there can’t possibly be enough space for them all and his entire being is thrumming with the beating of their wings.

It takes forever for their lips to get close enough to feel Niall’s breathing, soft against his lips and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happens next.

They kiss.

Except that every night, Zayn wakes up just before their lips can meet and each morning he wakes up wishing he could have stayed asleep just a _little_ bit longer.

Sometimes the dreams vary. Sometimes there’s a flash where Zayn is touching Niall’s arm or maybe his torso, or the other way around, both of their touches gentle and delicate as they discovered each other’s bodies in a different way than they know.

Instead of Zayn just seeing the way that Niall’s skin stretched over his torso and his hips, he could feel the muscle in his abdomen and the little pocket of pudginess that sat just over that muscle. And he could feel the way Niall’s fingers drifted over his tattoos and he swears he can hear his voice calling them beautiful in the sweetest way.

Every morning Zayn wakes up and he’s plunged into a day of confusion. Niall wasn’t his object of infatuation, he was his _bandmate_ , for God’s sake, and his friend above all else. He was one of the people that Zayn trusted most and he wasn’t consciously attracted to him. But the dreams were making him want Niall and it was making him want to kiss him every chance he got, just to see if his lips were as soft as he imagined them and to see if Niall’s breaths were really that soft and if he really did have that little hitch in his breath right before he kissed someone.

Zayn wonders, as he flops from his left side to his back, whether or not he should voice the dream to Niall and ask if he would be okay with just kissing him once to satisfy his curiosity. His cheeks burn and embarrassment swells in a wave of heat over the butterflies, telling him clearly that it would be a very bad idea to bring up the idea to Niall, or to anyone at all for that matter. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Niall said no, especially if he said yes.

He’s known Niall for so long that it feels inappropriate to be thinking about him like this at all, like he’s got a crush on his brother, which makes it better by a grand total of _not at all._

But then, they _aren’t_ brothers. Louis and Harry have proved that with their (rather enviable) relationship, and Zayn knows that they’re all just good friends. And aren’t there a million films where good friends turn into lovers? Couldn’t it happen for Zayn too, with Niall?

Zayn sighs heavily; he can’t stay up all night wondering about “what if”s and he shuts his eyes, almost excited for another dream.

 

Liam is the first one to notice the next morning when they’re all eating cereal and drinking tea on the bus. It’s quiet, the sound of crunching cereal and the kettle hissing on the counter as it reaches a boil the only things to really listen to. There’s murmuring and the sound of spoons hitting ceramic and Zayn is exhausted. He didn’t sleep well and he woke up too early with a heavy craving for Niall to be there beside him and with an even bigger craving to taste his lips.

He wonders, not for the first time, if this is what addicts feel like when they’re through withdrawal. What ever happened to “can’t miss what you never had”?

“Are you okay?” Liam asks in the middle of everything, making Zayn look up from his Weetabix, train of thought gone.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods.

“You look tired.”

Zayn rubs his hands over his face, shrugging listlessly. “Didn’t sleep too well.”

Liam nods. “Go to bed early tonight.”

“I will, yeah.”

The day lags by, a jumble of sound check and meet and greets and a show that do nothing to help his fatigue. By the end of the night, he’s dead on his feet and he feels more like an animated corpse than anything else and yet, he _still_ can’t wind down from performance mode to being asleep.

Louis offers to smoke with him, Liam offers to drink and Harry offers some natural remedy of yoga and meditation. In the end, Zayn decides to sketch until he’s soothed, grabbing his pencil and his sketchbook and going at it even though he’s got nothing specific in mind. He lets his hand do all the thinking and hard work, apathetic to the shape of the lines and only wanting to continue so that his mind might slow down to where his body is.

There’s a graphite smudge on his hand and his fingers before someone comes up to him. He hardly bothers looking up because he knows that Harry and Louis have gone to bed now (on the other bus, thank god) and Liam and Niall are probably on their way out as well. He almost brushes it off as being Paul or Cal or someone but the shadow is too thin to be one of them and he glances up, his pencil still poised over the paper.

“Mate, get some rest,” Liam says, frowning a little, smelling strongly of mint toothpaste. “You need it.”

Zayn rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, nodding. “Yeah, I’m going.”

Liam claps him on the shoulder and it shakes Zayn’s arm, creating an unwanted scratch across the paper and he frowns as he looks at it. The picture is a still frame from his dreams, the image of Niall’s face stretched into a laugh with fondness shining in his eyes and there’s even an almost empty space where someone else could fit like a sentence that needs to be said but stays resolutely silent. He turns his pencil over, preparing the eraser to get rid of the mark just under Niall’s chin and he sighs to himself.

He wants to throw it out lest someone find it and question why he’s begun drawing Niall like this, so professional and perfect, while he still draws the rest of them like cartoon characters. But the thing is, it’s such a good drawing that he can’t bring himself to tear it off the metal rings and crumple it up. It’s a good drawing, maybe the best he’s ever done, and he wonders idly if this is what being in love is like. He’s really never been in love properly, only the teenage make-believe kind that was more lust and affection and puppy-ish devotion than actual _love_.

Zayn shakes the idea out of his head as he listens to Liam climbing into his bunk, shutting his sketchbook and tossing in the general direction of his things. He lies down and pulls the blankets over himself, asleep in seconds as he hasn’t been able to since the dreams began.

 

In the morning, Zayn wakes with no memory of any dreams occurring last night and he’s more than pleased about it. He thinks that his lack of sleep has caught up with him and maybe the dreams were caused by the heat, but now they’re moving north and it won’t be as hot as it is here, he can’t be in love with Niall. He doesn’t look at this sketchbook again that day, too focussed on having a proper good day, the likes of which he hasn’t had in a while.

He’s eating his cereal and Liam gives him a grin, nodding at him as though congratulating him on the wonderful sleep he had last night. And it does feel like something that needs congratulating, mostly since he was sure that he’d drop dead on stage if he didn’t get a proper night’s sleep at some point during this tour. Niall stumbles in and Zayn looks up, his heart speeding up and his blood warming at the sight of him so tired and cuddly looking, like something that would happen in his dream. He sits down beside Liam, looking like he didn’t sleep a wink even though he’s often the deepest sleeper out of all of them, besides maybe Zayn himself.

“You okay?” Liam asks, shoving the cereal box in his direction.

“Slept like shit,” Niall mumbles in response, sloppily covering his yawn.

Liam glances at Zayn like he might have something to do with it but Zayn just shrugs, chewing a mouthful of cereal. “Well, get an early night tonight. At least we’ve got the day off today.”

“Yeah, thank God,” Niall says, fixing himself a bowl of cereal.

Zayn clears up his bowl and he goes back to his things, picking up his sketchbook and flipping to the picture of Niall. In the morning light, it isn’t nearly as good as he thought it was and it’s a little disappointing if he’s to be perfectly honest. Niall’s face is off, his features skewed without a good reference picture but the emotions are still plain on his face, that fondness and happiness all radiating off the graphite lines. He almost wants to reach for his pencil and sketch in that second person. He doesn’t. He knows it would only end up a self-portrait with his features mirroring Niall’s with all that fondness and happiness. He knows that it would just end up in him getting so confused he wants to pray to any deity that will listen and he’s just so _frustrated_ that he wants to rip every hair off his head.

He shoves his sketchbook aside, vowing to never look at it again.

 

They get a hotel that night and Zayn and Niall end up rooming together. Louis has a Skype date with his mum and for once Harry isn’t invited. Harry elected to stay with Liam and since there was only a double room left, Zayn and Niall were put together. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just that Zayn would rather be with anyone except Niall.

He doesn’t want to have another dream and then give into temptation, even though that would never, ever happen, but they’re in this hotel for another night after tonight and Zayn is worried that his proximity will cause another dream. He could whine for a single room but he doesn’t want to kick up a fuss and he really doesn’t want to subject someone else to Niall’s horrible snoring.

The next day is mostly relaxed, they have a secretive trip to the studio but it’s not remotely as draining as a show would be. Zayn and Niall hardly get time to interact after dinner before Niall is in the shower and Zayn can’t help but watch him once he’s out, just a towel around his waist and his chest on full display and he wants to just reach out and run his fingers along his warm skin. Zayn is in bed hours after Niall, who fell asleep nearly right after his shower and even though he caught up on his lost sleep the night before he has an easy time falling asleep again.

And then Niall is curled into his side, his voice quiet and his words rushing together. Zayn can’t quite figure out what it is he’s saying but his mouth moves in response and he says something and then Niall laughs, his face wrinkling up into that perfect mixture of enamoured bliss and he can’t help but feel pride and a less-violent fluttering swells up in his veins. Niall’s face gets closer; Zayn’s fingers have found his hips and he’s pulling him closer still; Niall inhales just slightly when their lips are nearly touching; Zayn closes the distance. He can feel it, Niall’s lips against his own and his chest aches for it and he wants it so badly, wants there to be less distance between them and he really just wants Niall pressed fully against him so there’s no space between them. It would be so easy – he already has his hand thrown around Niall’s waist, if he just pressed his hand into the small of his waist and pushed…

He wakes up with a start and there’s someone walking around in the hotel room, the lights from under the bedroom door having been flicked on. He rubs his eyes and his chest deflates as he sighs, berating himself. He was only dreaming, Niall isn’t in his bed and he won’t be, not ever. He was only dreaming and he should get up and get a glass of water so he can get back to sleep and drown his thoughts.

The carpet is soft under his feet and the air outside of the blankets is cold and he can’t help but wince as he pads to the door. Zayn grabs a hoodie to cover his chest, pulling it over his head as he creaks open the door and heads for the kitchen. His feet are against cold tile now and Niall is by the counter, looking very much awake as he sips a cup of tea that smells suspiciously like Harry’s sleepy-time tea that he offered Zayn.

“Why are you up?” Zayn asks as he reaches into the cupboards for a glass.

Niall shrugs. “I had a weird dream. You?”

“The same.”

Zayn fills the glass with water and takes a sip and it doesn’t feel at all like he’s drowning his thoughts when Niall is so close to him and all he can think about is how it felt to kiss him in his dream. It feels more like he’s pulling his thoughts closer and he wants to run away from it because it’s bothersome, this feeling that he can’t be around Niall without thinking of kissing him and touching him and fuck. _Fuck._

“What was your dream about?” Niall asks, blowing across the lip of his mug to cool it.

Zayn shrugs, biting his lip and he isn’t sure if it’s the fatigue or the frustration that makes him say it. Likely it was both, coupled with a healthy dose of deluded hope. “It was about you.”

Niall blinks.

“What was yours?”

“Uh, it was about you…”

Zayn laughs because that’s just absurd. They’re both dreaming about each other? No way. “Serious? What happened in it?”

Niall’s ears turn red and he looks down at the tiles, his rosy cheeks burning brighter. “It was nothing, just,” he shrugged, “Stuff.”

“Yeah,” Zayn said softly, finishing his water and setting his glass down on the counter beside him. He hoists himself up onto the counter, watching Niall sip his tea. “Harry’s tea?”

Niall nods. “Told him I couldn’t sleep and he just gave me half a box of the stuff. It’s tasty.”

“Yeah, it’s all right.”

They fall into silence and Zayn just lets himself look at Niall. It’s been so long since he’s really looked at him except in his dreams that it’s strange, seeing his face all illuminated with the fluorescent kitchen light instead of hidden in half-darkness and a softer, more natural light like in his dreams. Zayn can see the mark of where he nicked himself shaving on his jaw and he wants to kiss it and suck a mark beside it just to highlight it.

He checks the time and sighs, seeing that it’s well past midnight and he should really be asleep right now. They’re up early for another morning in the studio followed by an afternoon of pre-show bullshit and then an actual show. He rubs his eyes again and he just wishes that the dreams hadn’t started in the first place and that he could sleep normally without waking up with an ache for Niall to kiss him and sleep beside him.

“Excited for the show tomorrow?” Niall asks.

Zayn shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, it’ll be fun, they always are. Just hope I have the energy,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, same,” Niall chortles. “Maybe it’ll be the concert where one of us just passes out from exhaustion.”

Zayn laughs. “It’s possible. Damn us for not being able to sleep.”

“It’s weird, innit? We both have dreams about each other.”

“Yeah, that is weird. And now we’re both up at the same time.”

“Yeah,” Niall hums. “What was yours about?” There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes and Zayn can’t ignore it and it isn’t until he’s opening his mouth that his heart begins hammering.

“Well, it was just,” Zayn shrugs and now he’s nervous. “It was, uh, the two of us, yeah? And, I don’t know, dreams are weird.”

Niall chuckles, looking nervous. “Then what?”

“It’s really weird,” Zayn promises. “But, uhm, we kissed.”

The silence that follows is thick and Niall has a half-grin that isn’t uncomfortable. It’s more shocked and there’s still something glinting in his eyes that make Zayn so nervous that he hops down from the counter and shuffles across the floor towards the bedroom, fully aware that he’s fleeing like a coward.

“Forget it, it was just a stupid dream,” he mumbles, almost making it past Niall.

“Wait, no, Zayn,” Niall says, quickly, softly.

He stops and his heart is hammering and he has no clue what’s going to happen, he just wants it to happen now and he wants it to be Niall kissing him.

Niall takes one step forward and finally, _finally_ crashes their lips together and it’s release like Zayn’s never had before. It’s a million times the high that a cigarette yields and it’s like finally getting to breathe after being held underwater. His hands are shaking as he brings them up to cup Niall’s cheeks and he can feel one of Niall’s hands on his shoulder, tremors running through it and he’s not quite sure it that’s his entire body quaking or just Niall shaking hard enough for the both of them.

It’s nothing like the kiss in the dream, it’s not soft and sweet and laughter isn’t threatening to burst out of them at every second but god, it’s the best damn kiss Zayn has ever had in his entire life. The wait, the buildup and the mounting days and hours of tension between them has led up to this and though it’s nothing like Zayn’s dream, it’s Niall’s lips on his own. It’s what he’s been waiting for, anticipating, for days and days and _days_ and it’s so good.

Niall pulls away slowly and Zayn’s quaking has calmed, now only his unsteady, wobbling knees giving him away. They’re so close, still, their faces inches apart and Zayn wants to swoop in and steal another kiss, see if that will make the laughter bubble out of Niall like in his dream. Neither of them is saying a word and Zayn doesn’t know what to say (he suspects the same is true for Niall) and they’re both just there, physically close but worlds away.

“I’ve been having the same dream,” Niall says quietly, looking so desperate to just get this out. Zayn wants to kiss the dark circles under his eyes. “For a week.”

Zayn nods. “A week,” he agrees.

Niall moves a little closer so he’s not a step away from him. They’re holding onto each other like lovers that could be torn apart, their grips on each other desperate like this could all be another dream and they’ll wake up any second, frustrated and dissatisfied. Zayn takes a step backwards, moving towards the bedroom and Niall follows happily, no hesitation in his step as they both stumble backwards together.

They fall on the bed, Niall toppling onto Zayn and how close they are makes him burn up all over. Niall is flat on top of Zayn and he leans down to kiss him again, this one tentative and not as desperate as the last one. This time the fatigue is settling back on them and their lips are sloppy and slow and their pace doesn’t quite match up at first, Niall going for something quick and heated while Zayn wants to savour the feeling of every inch of Niall’s mouth against his.

They separate again and disentangle themselves, no longer so anxious that they will awaken alone and drained anymore, and Niall lies beside Zayn so close that their body heat is still radiating onto the other and the fine hairs on their chests are brushing together. They wrestle the tucked blankets over themselves and Zayn feels so much calmer now that Niall is beside him. He’s been so worried that the dreams were just that, dreams, illusions, and that Niall would never be beside him and their lips would never touch like that.

“You want this?” Niall asks quietly now that they’re in the dark, his face nearly completely obscured.

“Of course,” Zayn says, kissing his nose. “Wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

Niall chuckles. “Me too.”

They kiss again, just a quick thing that’s so casual it feels almost like they’re in a long-term relationship. “Sleep now, yeah?” Zayn suggests quietly.

Niall nods. “’Course. Sleep tight.” He presses a kiss to Zayn’s temple and once again he feels warm all over.

“You too.”

They both tumble off to sleep, no dreams waking them later in the night because they’ve got the real thing right beside them.


End file.
